Detecting the Detective
by Mr. Foote
Summary: My attempt at a Doctor Who/Sherlock fanfic, quite pleased with it, feel it's different to the usual conventions. Of course I do not own the rights to either Doctor Who or Sherlock.
1. I

Chiselled words, golden in black granite sat under a date of birth and death. A shadow cast over the words. A shadow that lead to a pair of black shoes, jeans and a buttoned up shirt.

"Why do I always come here?" came from the shadow's mouth. "When I came back from the war, I needed something, a reason to live. You were that reason. I know it's been so long, 6 months," John swallowed his tears. "And you're still dead."

He was still angry, angry at the lies. All of the lies, the ones the press had posthumously created about the man and the lies he told John himself. All these months and he still didn't believe them. Not many people knew the true man, but Dr. John Watson felt he did. He knew the true Sherlock Holmes.

"The flat's still fine," he muttered, talking to the grave as if it had a pulse. "Still get visitors; they think I can do it without you Sherlock. I can't." Watson had run out of words for this visit. He had taken so many visits to the grave, given so many words to it, more he had given to anyone else in recent times, it was the only place he felt at ease, that flat had been haunting him now. Still nowhere near to accepting the truth John turned to head home, he had made a promise with Ms. Hudson he would spend less time there. In the main London road John hailed a cab and began what he thought would be an ordinary journey home.

"Baker Street please," he muttered. He couldn't fully see his driver, his head being covered by the back of the seat but John failed to care, he knew from past experience that you shouldn't let cab drivers all blur into one, but since Sherlock's death most things in his life blurred to one.

"You don't look how I imagined." The cabbie said without the usual cockney voice of a cabbie, sounding as if it came from a higher class. John looked in confusion up to see a pair of eyes in the rear view mirror, sunken eyes under a heavy brow.

"Sorry, what?" John was confused. Still looking at the eyes, the driver must have noticed due to the fact he rearranged it so it presented to John his chest area. John was perplexed by this driver and seeing more of him in the mirror set more questions. Why did this man say that? What did he mean by "How he imagined"? Yet the last question, the question that really got to John the most came from seeing the cabbies clothes.

"What kind of cabbie wears a bow tie?"

The entire vehicle came to a stop. Due partially to traffic, partially to rage.

"A cool cabbie," was his surprisingly quite reply.

"Now tell me, your name?" asked the driver. John went along with the driver's game; he didn't seem the killing type.

"My name is doctor…"

"One moment!" the driver interrupted. "I never get to say this," the cabbie cleared his throat.

"Doctor who?"

"Dr. John Watson,"

"Ah ha so it is you brilliant!" the driver completely turned around in his seat. Revealing his full thin, long face, with a fringe of brown hair covering a majority of it. "Hello Watson I'm the…"

"The road!" John shouted, more paranoid about the crazed driver not looking at the road.

"What? Oh no it'll be fine cruise control cab," at that moment the cab came to a crashing halt as the two inside tumbled around within. "Okay, maybe that hasn't been invented yet," the driver mumbled into an air bag.

"Who the hell are you!?" John shouted his back of the floor of the cab and his legs resting on the seats. Getting out of his seat the driver then opened a door for John to get out.

"Come along Watson!" he said sticking his hand out to help John up. John took it and left the cab, leaving it wrapped around the lamp post what struck it in the busy London street.

Running into an alley they stopped.

"What on Earth is going on!?" John shouted at the man. "You just left a destroyed London taxi in the middle of the street!"

"Oh it wasn't mine anyway," the man did not seem too bothered.

"The police? You can't do something like that in broad day light in one of the biggest cities in the world and expect not to go unnoticed!"

"Watson calm, we won't be here much longer anyway,"

"And stop calling me Watson, only one person has ever called me that and that was…"

"Sherlock Holmes," the driver finished.

"John Watson, hello, I am the Doctor." The old Time Lord smiled.

John took a better look at him. He had a face that mixed young excitement with old wisdom, and dressed in tweed, a bowtie and braces. He was quite unlike anyone John had ever seen before, but something all made sense now; he just needed to see one more thing, one more... blue thing.

"Come along John, I left her somewhere here," the Doctor lead the way. "Ah here she is!"

Within one of the dark alley ways of London, even John who was taught so much about the shadier side of London from his friend didn't quite know where they were, stood a blue box. It had windows, a door and a light hung a top it. This was the evidence John was looking for.

"John this is my…"

"TARDIS, this is _the_ TARDIS."

The Doctor gave him a confused look. "Go on…"

"You spend enough time on the internet you read about you. The Doctor and his time machine, saving the world but without our knowledge. The man with no name. Few believe in you though. Even Sherlock didn't, we had a few people come with stories about you, Sherlock dismissed them all as rubbish, and you're real."

The Doctor smiled his smile. "John, it takes a lot to keep my attention, to keep me grounded in the same time for more then a day, and well you and Sherlock kept me thrilled. For a man reaching 1000, that's impressive." He let John take in the 1000 comment. "This last case of yours, with Moriarty I have been keeping a close eye on and well." The Doctor put his hand on John's should and put his mouth close to his ear. "I'm sorry."

"You can bring him back can't you? I've read the stories; go back in time and save him!"

"John it's not as easy as that,"

"Then why have you come for me!?" John's voice was breaking.

"I've come to give you my respects, I can't bring him back for you, but I can show you him."

"What do you mean?"

"I can take you to his past; show you him as a child, a walk through of his life, the respect he deserves. It's your choice if you want to come or not."

There was silence between the two of them. Then John marched, like he did in the army so many times, he marched to the door of the blue box and waited, the Doctor had his answer.

Running behind John the Doctor reached the door to and fumbled through his pocket for the key to his home. A twist in the lock and the Doctor held the door a jar, not open enough for John to see inside.

The Doctor smiled at his new companion "John, you thought Sherlock was amazing, just wait till you get a load of me!" He exclaimed as he open fully the TARDIS door.


	2. II

"Right where to first?" the Doctor asked. Yet John was too mesmerised by the inner workings of the TARDIS.

"It's just like they said on the internet,"

"No it's not just like they said on the internet, its better."

After the reception the TARDIS gets from everyone for the first time John was back on earth, well metaphorically, in reality he was zooming through the stream of time.

"Ummm… the start?" John was still confused exactly by what was going on. Living with Sherlock had taught him to be nothing but logical and to realise that everything has a realistic answer. The Doctor blew all that out of the water.

"Has anyone ever told you that you look like a hedgehog?"

"What?"

"Nothing just thinking aloud, so the start? I think I can do that." and with that the Doctor flicked switches and pulled levers and soon the TARDIS truly came to life.

"Here we are," the Doctor announced as they both went through the doors. John was still taking in the fact they had travelled through time, to the Doctor it was all too normal. The walls were all white, and clean. Even John Watson could deduct where they were. "The start, a hospital." He muttered, he knew now this hospital they stood in was the birthplace of the great Sherlock Holmes.

"So what year is it?" John asked the Doctor as they searching, free from the small private patient room the TARDIS appeared in.

"1976 I believe." The Doctor answered "A ha," he pointed to a sign, a sign that read maternity ward. "That's were we need to be." The Doctor explained as they both travelled.

The closer they got the higher and younger the voices got. Until all those voices were broken by a young boy screaming.

"Father I don't want a brother!" the child's face had gone red with crying and his screams sounded almost breathless. The boy was sat on a chair, his legs not being able to reach the ground below him. Wearing a small suit with shorts so his knees and ankles could be seen. In front of him an older, distinguished man paced, wearing a long frock coat of dark purple tweed. The Doctor and John watched.

"Nice tweed, I need one like that." the Doctor thought aloud, they carried on watching.

"Mycroft Holmes! Your mother is in pain in that room and all you can do is care for yourself, when your brother comes into this world you will need to be strong for him! Do you understand!?" the father shouted. Little Mycroft tear's slowed as his scream turned into a quiet moan.

"Mycroft Holmes! Crying!" at first John was laughing at seeing the man he knew simply as "the government" crying but then he stopped. He stopped seeing that man and saw the child, the young scared child whose life was going to change forever. John stopped finding it all that funny after that.

"Mr. Holmes," a nurse's head appeared from the door Mycroft and his father was waiting by "Would you like to see your new child?"

Mycroft stood from his seat and took his father's hand, sinking his face into his father's stomach. The door opened and the Holmes two walked in.

"You know you want to John," the Doctor teased.

"I can just walk into a room in a hospital you need to work here to do something like that,"

"Like be a doctor?"

"Yes like be a doc…" John realised that he was in fact a doctor.

"Go on John, I'll be in the TARDIS, come find me when you're done. In a building full of doctors, the Doctor found his way back to the TARDIS. John left alone in the past swallowed his fear and headed into the door.

John new the year but not the exact time. He guessed early morning from the way the sun gleamed through the windows. The entire Holmes family stared at him. Mother Holmes in bed with a bundle in her arms. Father Holmes standing by her side in a stern manner. Young Mycroft, eyes still red from the crying, one hand in his father's and the other grasping a small cuddly rabbit, John presumed it was for the baby but they let Mycroft hold it for comfort.

"Hello, I'm Dr. John Watson," holding out his medical proof "I'm just here to make sure baby is all okay," lying through his teeth, not even thinking of the consequences in time that could come from giving his real name.

"Of course doctor he's just asleep now," the mother was still fatigued. John approached the woman, with her husband's watchful eye over him. Leaning in John moved some blankets to see the child.

Not being a father himself to John a baby was a baby, but not this one. He could see the eyes, the stern mouth, and the cheek bones that would all develop over time. If only he could explain.

"Hello." John whispered looking at the baby, he refused to refer to the baby as Sherlock, and it scared him too much that something so tiny could become that great man.

"Is he okay Dr. Watson?" the mother asked. John stroked the child's head and felt his skin, in some kind of mock baby check up. It was when John was running one finger down the child's nose that baby grabbed on to it, wrapping his tiny fingers round John's one. John felt all too emotional but had to hide it.

"Yes, he's fine, great in fact, brilliant." John carried on. "Do you have a name yet?"

"Sherlock," his father butted in.

"Well, I can guarantee Sherlock Holmes will go on to do amazing things." Foresight plagued John's words. The entire family were smiling at John, all but one. "You too young man," John smiled to the young Mycroft; the boy gave a teary smile back.

"Goodbye," John took a quick step outside the Holmes's private room, and headed back to the TARDIS, trying to comprehend what had just happened.

"Impressed?" the Doctor was smug as ever, John didn't respond. It was all hitting him. "Look John I know this must be painful for you…"

"You don't understand!" John snapped "Too see a man you know so well, as a small defenceless child, it's scary! You haven't lost anyone like Sherlock."

The Doctor changed from silly to serious. "I haven't lost anyone?" he said. "Now look John. I have lost so many people, friends, family, loved ones, whole planets. So don't," he paused "ever say I don't know what it's like to loose someone."

John brought himself together.

"Would you like to go home John? Or carry on?"

"I want to see more." John was brave. The Doctor pulled yet another lever, and that smiled graced his face.

"Geronimo."


	3. III

"Where to now then?" John asked the Doctor.

"Not too far forward…" the Doctor wasn't focused on John though, he was too busy trying to get the TARDIS to land in exactly the right place and time. Everything went silent. "Here we are."

"Welcome back to the 80s John! I suppose you were alive in the 80s, well when I say 80s I mean 1981, barley the 80s at all!" the Doctor badgered on while John took in his surroundings. To John it looked little like the 80s he remembered as a young man. They were in a large garden; freshly cut grass meant the lawn was in lines of green, changing from shade to shade of the colour.

"Where exactly are we?" John looked around.

"The Holmes' residence." the Doctor twisted on his heels and John turned to see what the Doctor twisted to. Now in front of them was a large country home, built of brown brick with chiselled stone, slated roof and countless windows. John saw a side of Sherlock he didn't even know existed.

"This is where Sherlock grew up?" John was stunned.

"Yes didn't he tell you?"

"We never really discussed this part of our lives; Sherlock had always just been a man to me,"

"We were all children once John," the Doctor reminded John.

"Even you Doctor?"

The Doctor gave no reply and just carried on towards the house. John followed as ever.

"You could get lost in a house like this," John commented.

"Yes and that's exactly what we are planning on doing."

"What?"

"Sneak in, take a peak at a five year old Sherlock, maybe tease Mycroft a bit, and carry on."

"Doctor we can't just break into someone's house let alone a house like this. It'll be full of security cameras!"

"I have that covered," the Doctor explained as they reached the outside walls of the house. He found a box on the side of the wall, small and grey with wires coming out of it and burying themselves back into the house.

The Doctor cracked the box open and started rummaging through it. John wasn't taking noticed of him on the floor, keeping watch that no one would see them, it was then he heard a strange buzzing sound. Looking down he saw it was coming from a strange contraption the Doctor held in his hand, pointing towards the box.

"What are you doing? Jabbing it with a screwdriver or something?"

"Well yes... something like that." the Doctor slid the thing back in his pocket. "All cameras are now off," wandering off; it wasn't too long before the Doctor found an open window. His thin body slipped through with ease. Once fully inside the Doctor poked his head out.

"Coming Watson?"

"Yes just bare with me," John told him as the Doctor helped him through.

The two found themselves in a hall way, an incredible regal looking hallway, pictures hung on the walls and a long carpet draped across the floor. The two doctors travelled for what seemed like a life time until they heard a noise. A child crying. The two followed the sound. It led to a door which was open slightly a jar. Poking their heads through they investigated.

It appeared to be a playroom. Cuddly toys and a model train set lay across the ground. Within were two small children and a woman sitting in a chair, a beautiful woman. She was five years older and less worn compared to when John last saw her. She had aged like fine wine, in a long white dress with brown hair in a bun. Her face looked like it had been sculpted from the finest porcelain, one of the two children in the room, the younger, resting in her lap. Arms around the woman and the woman's arms round him. The other child still had what we would refer to as baby fat. He was wearing a pair of shorts, held by braces and a shirt. His face looked snotty and angry.

"Mycroft you should never hurt your brother. You are the one who needs to look after him when father is away. Now go to your room and don't come out till tea." The mother didn't raise her voice but her anger could be heard. The crying that had come from the child on her lap was now a mere sobbing.

"But mother he did that thing again! When he's all smart!"

"You are just jealous Mycroft; the doctors said he is a very special young boy. Love your brother for what he can do and don't let it upset you."

Young Mycroft stormed out in childish anger, John and the Doctor hid behind the door to stay out of view. Once the miserable child was gone the two carried on looking.

"It's okay Sherlock the bullies gone, mother's here." Her voice was gentle.

"Don't leave me mummy," was all John and the Doctor could make out from the mumbles in her arms.

"You know I won't Sherlock, I'm always here." She nuzzled her head closer to her sons and hummed to him. Picking him up and heading for the door that concealed John and the Doctor, the two stealthily ran down the hall, hoping Mrs. Holmes would not follow.

"You can see why the two brothers' don't get on," John whispered as they wandered off.

"It's a shame isn't? Everyone needs family, even the great Sherlock Holmes." The Doctor stopped in his tracks outside a door. It was a black wooden door and written on a marble plaque was "Sherlock's Room" which enticed them in all the more. "Well you know you want to John," the Doctor grinned. John looked to the time lord then back to the door.

"Geronimo." John said under his breath.

"Hey that's mine!" the Doctor was distraught as they both walked in.

Blue walls across the room. A small bed littered with clothing. There were little next to no toys in the room what the two both realised, toys must have been reserved for the play room. There was the odd toy John took notice of, things like board games specifically.

"Cluedo, of course he would." John chuckled as he saw the old board tattered and worn on the floor. Operation lay next to it; all the pieces lay perfectly next to the picture of the man on the bed with the blinking red nose, which also seemed fitting. What primarily lay across the room though were book, countless books.

Fiction and non fiction, across all different interests, the only thing what they had in common was the fact that they were all way beyond the average reading level of a five year old. The two stood circling each other in wonder, which came to a halt though when they heard a female's voice coming to the door.

"Quick hide!" Doctor shouted as he ran into young Sherlock's wardrobe. John froze but then followed.

"I'm use to places like this being bigger on the inside you know." Doctor whispered, John was so close he could feel the Doctor's breath.

Peering through a crack in the closet door John saw mother Holmes' come in with a child in her arms, placing him on his bed. A kiss on his forehead and she left him. They watched the young Sherlock, and the young Sherlock knew, despite their best ability to hide.

"You're scared." The young boy said, looking towards the closet. "I didn't leave the closet door ajar and there are shoe imprints on the carpet."

This was definitely Sherlock.

The two men came out from their hiding place and confronted the five year old, finally getting a good view of the young Sherlock. The idea of baby fat had not come to this young child as he was so thin. He had a long young thin face. His eyes were still just as piercing as they ever were as John knew them, but they were red. The left one had black around it. John presumed that must have been what Mycroft did to him.

"How do you know we are scared?" the Doctor broke the silence.

"Your eyes, your breathing pattern," his next comment was aimed primarily at John. "You're sweating." He looked to both the men again. "Why are you here? Who are you?" young Sherlock's voice was soft, light, but still had that great sound to it. John was silent in shock; luckily the Doctor could do the talking for them.

"We are just visiting little one, don't worry." the Doctor smiled at the boy. Sherlock had kept his young child mouth completely straight, yet seeing the Doctor's smile made him even lift his face a little.

"Goodbye, Sherlock." The Doctor turned to the door, John followed behind.

"Do I know you?" little Sherlock said to John.

"Me?" John didn't quite know what to say, he could have explained it all to the young Sherlock right there, about who he was, and who he was going to become.

"No you don't know me." John answered, and left. The two headed back to the TARDIS.

"What Sherlock going to say to his mother about me?" John asked.

"Oh she won't care, she'll just think we were his imagination. "

"What happened to that little child Doctor?" John was full of questions.

"What happens to all cute children," the Doctor threw a leaver. "He grew up."


	4. IV

"Come on then where now?" now the Doctor was asking questions.

"I want to see my Sherlock,"

"John I can't take you that close, time streams would cross and it'll be too dangerous."

"No not exactly then, I want to see when the child became the man, when he became the consultant detective he was when he..." John stopped.

"Died?" the Doctor finished the sentence with a tremble in his voice. John didn't correct or mistake him.

"Well if you want to see that Sherlock I know just where to find him." ploughing through his last comment.

After a spot of time travelling they were at their next destination. Another large pastoral house surrounded by fields, greenery and shrubbery, only this one seem somehow more elaborate than his family home. John however knew this place, not that he had visited it himself but any brit with a working knowledge of their own country knows the most privileged school in the country.

"Eton, Sherlock Holmes went to Eton." John realised how little he knew about his dear friend's past.

_"Not important. All what matters is the case at hand."_ His friend's words rang though his mind.

"Well…" the Doctor stretched his words. "_Went_ to Eton is maybe an overstatement, he was definitely suppose to study here, I mean," the Doctor looked to his watch. "It's lesson time now, math I believe it would be for our man, so where would we find him?"

Giving it thought over where a teenager who didn't see the point of maths after a basic understanding of the subject would be during a lesson devoted to it, plus an ideas John had of Sherlock's past.

"A school can be as posh as it wants to be Doctor, but there will always be drop outs that don't care." John came to the conclusion.

"Well I'm sure you understand teenage earth culture better than me, where would he be?"

"It's the same at every school, bike sheds," John decided as they were both wandering to look for the teenage drop out.

"It's 1994 by the way John," it was a passing statement the Doctor made to John.

"Sherlock would be 18 then? God I'm probably about somewhere doing my medical training,"

"And I am probably doing…" the Doctor thought "Well not that much." He came to a conclusion. Following a gravel path that circled the campus they came to a fork with a sign pointing different locations in different places. It had all kinds of things on it, the different ages the school took in, primary school to college and everything in between."

"Does it say where the bike sheds are?" John said allowed.

"Elementary Watson." The Doctor told him.

"What?"

"They are by the elementary school campus, look." The Doctor pointed to one of the arrowed signs that read elementary school, with bike sheds underneath. "What did you think I meant John?"

"Never mind," John muttered and the two headed in that direction.

Steel racks of bikes lined under a wooden roof, they had got to their destination and John was all too right with his guess, for they could here young voices, and clouds of cigarette smoke.

"Now John if we do find him here we can't get as close as we have been getting before, he's not a child any more, if he sees you now it'll really mess things up so much in the future, do you understand?" the Doctor warned. John nodded as they crept closer.

By the bike sheds was in fact a more conventional, wooden shed. Probably where gardening and cleaning products were kept, but it was here the drop outs collected. The Eton uniform is a white shirt with black trousers and a long black frock coat and a circle of these gathered round with smoke coming from the centre, like Native's around a fire. John and the Doctor tried to deduce which one was Sherlock but they couldn't quite tell due to being too far, they crept in closer while remaining hidden. They could over here snippets of conversation now.

"So yes and in the end I gave her a bloody good seeing to," was the end of one of the upper class teens conversation, all the boys laughed around the circle, coming to a stop when another voice entered the conversation.

"You're lying." was all it said. All the boys in the circle looked around the corner of the shed to someone there.

"Shut up Sherlock." one from the circle called back to the voice, suddenly at hearing this John and the Doctor too craned to look round this corner of the shed.

Back leaned up against the shed wall, feet and behind firmly on the ground with his knees shooting into the air, a book cradled in his hands and a cigarette hanging from his mouth. A teenage Sherlock sat. Black greasy curly hair, longer then John knew it, ran to his neck. His face was as thin as ever with his sharp cheek bones and jaw line almost on the verge of breaking through his skin. His eyes looked hazy, but still just a sharp as ever. His face had the odd spot, zit, and boil, what usually comes with teenage angst. His Eton uniform tattered and ripped.

"You are lying though. At the start of your conversation about this woman you had you said you have just come back from her place. If that is the case then why on earth are you in fresh, clean clothes? Surely they would be creased. Not saying that you weren't out all night don't get me wrong, and you have just come back, stopped at your room quickly, not much time. You merely put the clothes on top of what you were wearing last night. Which was of course a blue tee shirt with some sort of yellow font on it, like the one I can see from under your collar? The kind of blue and yellow font used in Star Trek, plus the fact the annual science fiction and fantasy convention is currently on indicates you spent all of last night there. Using the cover story of being with a woman to impress this lot, especially due to the fact you have heard the rumour going round that you are gay."

"That's my Sherlock." John smiled to the Doctor. The Doctor was smiling too, but they were the only two. All the boys in the circle were now looking to the young gentleman who told the lie.

"Also a good half of you in the circle are gay," now Sherlock broke his eyes away from his book. "I can tell you who if you like." He smiled. After this comment the boys stubbed their cigarettes and shuffled away in a huddle. Leaving Sherlock Holmes alone with his book, just the way he liked it.

The two doctors carried on watching, they had no clue why. Sherlock wasn't doing much, merely sitting there, smoking cigarette after cigarette reading his book. They were just fascinated by seeing him, without his knowledge, they had away since the others left. Finally closing his book, Sherlock took a look to the left and right.

"Movement," the Doctor said, like on a steak out for a criminal, or on safari watching a resting lion. Sherlock removed his belt from his trouser's loops and tied it around the top of his arm.

"What's he doing?" the Doctor was baffled. John knew all to well.

"What he did to entertain himself when his mind was bored, and before he met me." John for once knew the answers, and pointed to the syringe in the youth's hand.

Slowly it sunk into the vain; a vain made all the more clear to see due to the loss of circulation from the tight belt around his arm. To the doctors it looked painful but the look on Sherlock's face as it punctured was one of ecstasy.

"Sherlock Holmes was a heroin addict." The Doctor stated.

"_MY _Sherlock Homes was a former heroin addict," John corrected. "He got off the stuff before he met me."

Yet even though he knew Sherlock would give it up seeing this young man turn to such demanding drugs upset him. He was alone, so alone. John had an idea in his head of the real Sherlock Holmes now.

"A child bullied by his brother due to the brilliant mind he has. When he finally enters schooling he presumes everyone will treat him like his brother does so he isolates himself. He gets himself lost in books and drugs." John thought.

"He had me though in the end." John thought allowed the last sentence of his train of thought.

"What was that?" The Doctor asked.

"Oh nothing,"

The Doctor gave a disgruntled looked, "I should be a mind reader not a time traveller."

They looked to Sherlock, putting away his needle and walking towards them and once again scampered off towards the TARDIS. Looking to their next location in Sherlock's life.


	5. V

"Doctor how exactly do you know all these exact dates and locations of Sherlock's life?" John's mind suddenly sparked.

"I'm the Doctor John, not _A_ doctor like you, _THE_ Doctor, I did my homework," was the alien's reply, sorting out their next location.

"2005 John, the home stretch," the Doctor was excited. It was London. John could tell that from the dark scenery and tall buildings around him. The TARDIS was merely parked up on a street corner, unsuspecting to the rest of the world, John was wondering if he had seen it before. The blue box was so ordinary, yet so iconic. On the dark streets blue sirens went past. The two followed these sirens; until they came to a scene John was all too familiar with, the scene of a crime.

From the looks of the scene things were being wrapped up, the police were escorting a man into the back of one of their vans, and more were standing around a chalk outline with a body encased within it. The Doctor and John stood a far; just John noticed something about the body. It was a large body, it seemed as if patches of skin had been torn away from it, ripped out, and from these rips what appeared to be green leathery skin was showing.

"Oh we are _here…_" the Doctor even seemed scared by this. Away from the body stood two men. One John could tell straight away, his Sherlock, it was more and more becoming John's Sherlock, the only main difference was shorter hair and a shorter coat, plus a cigarette hanging from his mouth. The other seemed familiar, a new policeman, a young one.

"Lestrade." John chuckled at the policeman's young face. Lestrade looked unhappy at Sherlock.

"This must be their first encounter." John wondered to the Doctor.

"It must be, for this John, is the first time Sherlock took the name of the consultant detective."

"His first case." John smiled once more. They remained hidden from Sherlock. The policeman seemed to be writing out a check and pointed it in Sherlock's direction, which he then took no time in snapping it away from his hands, and wandered away. The two followed.

Sherlock waited on another street corner. John carried on closer, like a toddler waddling to his father but the Doctor held him back.

"Not too close."

Where Sherlock waited till another man, a man with a woman.

"Who's that?" John asked.

"Exactly." The Doctor answered in his usual mysterious way.

He had short hair, a dark brown colour, with ears and a nose so big they dwarfed the rest of his face. He was wearing a black leather jacket with a jumper underneath and black trousers. The woman next to him seemed young. Blonde hair in jeans and a jacket. They were talking with Sherlock, the two men shook hands, and the leather jacketed man with his… companion… headed off. Only for to twist around and grab the cigarette from Sherlock's mouth, and stamp it on the floor. Once again to disappear into the dark alley ways of London, Sherlock too took his leave.

"Doctor who was that man and woman with Sherlock?" They were both in the TARDIS now.

"They're not important, the Doctor had a hint of lying in his voice, John could tell. Yet he decided not to bring it up, he was the Doctor's guest after all.

"Anyway…" Doctor changed the conversation. "One final stop. John, you're a medical man, things start and things end, you may not like what is outside those doors, we can leave if you want too."

"What's out there Doctor?" John had worry in his voice,

"You've seen the start, now you can see…" but before the Doctor could finish John was running out the doors.

The immediate sunlight hazed John's vision for a moment, blinding him to where he was, soon though his vision became clear. A roof top. Not the tallest but higher then its surrounding buildings. One of the buildings near to it struck memories back within John, and the man on the ledge of the building struck even more.

"Sher…" John screamed, only to be muted by the Doctor's hand over his mouth.

"Rule one of time travel, you cannot do something like that!" the Doctor whispered into John's ear while removing his hand. John was silent. He looked to Sherlock standing on the rooftop. A bloodied body lay behind him, Moriarty, while the great detective held a phone to his face, John knew what this meant. Looking down to the street he saw himself. His tiny self, made smaller from the height and the distance, Sherlock was far away too, but he didn't seem tiny at all. His great coat blowing in the London winds. John swallowed his fear and carried on watching, with the Doctor standing by his side.

He couldn't hear his and Sherlock's conversation but he knew exactly what was happen. The entire thing had played through countless times in his mind. It was when Sherlock hung up he begun to shake, and cry.

John tried to keep it together, he knew that part of him needed to see it from another perspective, to give him closure that Sherlock was really dead, to beat the lies that he had created himself that Sherlock was still alive, yet when Sherlock's first foot stepped off the building, everything John had built up in that time crashed as he turned and ran back into the TARDIS. The Doctor watched, analysed, and then went to consult John.

"I don't like the end." his voice was weak, his eyes were red, his nose was running.

"I know you don't John, I'm so sorry."

"Even in my head, when I run through it, I skip that part, always, always!" John voice rose at his last word, but his entire being collapsed afterwards. John fell to his knees on the TARDIS floor, yet he was not there for long before the Doctor picked him up and took him in to his arms.

"Well that's that." John had got himself back together. "Where are we now then?"

"Home. 221B Baker Street. About half an hour after I crashed the cab. Mrs. Hudson has just put the kettle on." The Doctor was nothing but precise.

"How can only half an hour passed we were gone what seemed a life time."

"It was a life time, Sherlock's life time, yet time travel can do that. Save the world get the girl and be back in time for tea." The Doctor smiled, but John didn't return.

"I am sorry John, he was a great man."

"He _is_ a great man," John emphasised. "Thank you Doctor, for all you have shown me, honestly it was… amazing, is there just nothing you can do? Please. Pick him up from the past? Let me live with him then? Take me to the future and show me what is really going to happen? Something."

The Doctor looked to John. "I suppose there is one thing,"

"What?!" John's voice was one of excitement.

"Hello John." A low trembling voice came from inside the TARDIS, and behind John.


	6. VI

His coat was long. His hair was black. His face was sharp and thin. His scarf was blue. His shirt was purple, and to John it was nothing but him.

"Sherlock!" John ran to the man.

"Do not touch it!" the Doctor's shout stopped John in his steps. "It's not real; it's a hologram, a very good one at that, but touch it and it'll vanish."

"How?" John was baffled.

"The TARDIS is alive you know, she has minor psychic powers, feeding off your memories, in the least creepy way possible and of course from the places and times she has recently been." The Doctor answered. "All together to create one brilliant hologram," the Doctor walked to John who was standing by the hologram. "This is the last thing I can do for you John."

"Can he say anything else?"

"It" the Doctor focused the it, for John's own sake, he didn't want John getting attached to a hologram. "It can say what ever is programmed into it, and its programming has come from your memories so I suppose it will have quite a bit to say nothing new though." He then stepped away from the real Doctor and closer to the illusion detective.

"It was all true John, what the media said about me."

"Don't." John was silent. "Don't say that."

"Heroes don't exist John, and even if they did I'm not one of them."

"You know you are the most human human I have ever met, not matter who hard you tried to disguise it. Stop it Sherlock. Stop this."

"Goodbye John…" its voice was slowing "Goodbye John Watson."

"Powers are running low, John get out of here before it vanishes." The Doctor's voice interrupted and had a ring of urgency within it. John barley listened. His hand was reaching out, coming closer and closer to the hologram.

"Goodbye Sherlock Holmes." his finger tip touching the long coat before being pushed out the TARDIS by the doctor.

Touching the coat.

A real coat.

The two doctors stood within flat 221B, the TARDIS taking centre stage among the forensics equipment, books, and skulls.

"I'm sorry John, I didn't want you to see him go, and it would not have been good for you."

"It's fine Doctor." John was blunt.

"Trust me; I've seen someone fade before my eyes, gone forever."

John gave the Doctor a long look; stern, so stern even the Doctor could not read it.

"Thank you Doctor, for all this, it's hurt, so much, but it's been fantastic."

"John Watson, you are more than welcome!" they were both smiling now as they shook hands.

"I hope it's all helped you, with grieving."

John looked to the Doctor. He gave a half smile.

"Good bye Doctor."

"Goodbye Watson"

And with that, the Time Lord re-entered the TARDIS, as it vaporized from 221B for ever.

"Mr. Holmes, you are quite the actor. You should add expert hologram actor to your C.V." The Doctor said to the fake hologram, which was still curiously inside the TARDIS.

"You have to be in my line of work Doctor; I must thank you once again for all this." The real Sherlock Holmes spoke.

"It's more than fine, I did give you one favour for helping me with catching that loose siltheen all those years ago, and I'm surprised you remembered."

"No one forgets someone quite like you, but I must admit you look rather different from since then."

"Oh I'm always changing me, miss the ears though. I had a coat as well once, would have rivalled yours." The Doctor added, yet Sherlock seemed unimpressed by that statement. The two great men stood proudly in the TARDIS.

"So why this Sherlock? Why give me all these times and places for John to visit, to see you as a baby, a child, a teen. While you hide away in the back of the TARDIS until the end, pooping out as a hologram with all this psychic memory rubbish just to say one last goodbye."

"Because Doctor that is exactly what he needed, closure, a real goodbye, I thought this would help him, and let him see the me so few have really seen. It was odd you know, feeling your memories change before you, the vision of you two in my childhood room is engraved in my mind now."

"It must be so very odd Sherlock; but why can't he just know you are still alive!?" the Doctor seemed frustrated.

"When the time is right John, Ms. Hudson and all the others can know I'm alive." Sherlock explained. The Doctor tutted at his friends deep words and carried on the conversation.

"Did you not get bored waiting around the back of the TARDIS?"

"Doctor is was impossible to not touch anything," Sherlock returned to the room he hid in. "Yet out of everything in there it was this that confused me the most." Sherlock was holding a red cone made of felt.

"A fez Doctor? Really?" Sherlock threw it to the Doctor.

"Hey fezzes are cool!" the Doctor threw it back to Sherlock, landing perfectly on his head.

"I must look stupid." Sherlock muttered throwing the hat off his head.

"You look adorable." The Doctor joked.

The two geniuses simply rode through the time vortex, discussing anything and everything. Books, history, people in their lives.

"Where is Rose Doctor?" Sherlock asked.

"Rose is gone Sherlock, along with all the others,"

"I'm sorry Doctor," Sherlock added.

"Oh it's fine, she is about somewhere, still not smoking Sherlock?"

"No I started stopping when you tore that one at of my mouth those years back, it's a hard battle though."

"The hardest of your life Sherlock."

Eventually their time together came to an end. The Doctor got the TARDIS to modern London, where Sherlock could once again go back to being dead.

"Thank you very much Doctor, it's been thrilling." Sherlock headed for the door.

"Sherlock one thing." The Doctor said. Sherlock turned his coat swaying as he did. "Your favour was to give John the closure he need, which is very selfless of you, but I must ask, if that's what you used it for, how on earth did you survive the fall? For even I the Doctor can't explain that one!"

Sherlock smiled at the Doctor, his hands grabbing hold of his collar as he pooped it up. "Goodbye Doctor." He once again turned and left the TARDIS to remain hidden in the busy streets of London.


End file.
